


Bridenapping

by Mawgon



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Hobbit Culture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-22
Updated: 2015-09-24
Packaged: 2018-04-22 22:58:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4853792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mawgon/pseuds/Mawgon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin is too proud to do lowly blacksmith work among dwarves. He is a king, after all. While he does blacksmith work for Men, he is still too proud to do any other work ... which means he is close to starving when he meets Bilberry Baggins on the road ... and rejects her offer of some food, because he's too proud to take anything he cannot pay for. </p><p>Bilberry Baggins is quite enraged that the handsome stranger treated her like a child. But fortunately, there is an ancient tradition she can invoke: The law allows her to abduct him and keep him in her home for a month in order to show him what a worthy spouse she would be. A village full of hobbits who are angry at the prideful, stupid stranger who won't accept their kind job offers, is eager to help, even though they can't understand what she sees in him. </p><p>Written for a Kink Meme Prompt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt was: 
> 
> "There was a Dwalin/Ori prompt last round I liked and I'd like to see a Bagginshield take on it. The prompt was:  
> 'The groom kidnaps the "bride", and has to hold onto him or her for a set amount of time. The "bride" is fully expected to try to escape, but if they're a willing captive, the escape attempts might be laughably easy to foil, or they might sabotage their own efforts. Obviously, if the "bride" isn't interested, they do their best, and if they manage to get away, that's the end of it.
> 
> I would really like to avoid any kind of non-con or dub-con sexual contact. The groom is essentially trying to show that he (or she!)'s worthy of marrying the bride, and is keeping them as a captive audience to do so. The "bride" can definitely be surprised by the offer of marriage, but they're well within their rights to refuse and run like hell.
> 
> The bride's family coming to rescue the bride is also fully expected, while the groom's family assisting the groom (especially if they approve of the match) is almost required.'
> 
> I'd like to see a take on this with Thorin and Bilbo, please. Double points if Bilbo's the one doing the kidnapping."
> 
> Link: http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/7346.html?thread=16087730#t16087730
> 
> Now, I usually don't like that kind of plot, what with the non-con implications, but with Thorin being kidnapped and fem!Bilbo being the kidnapper, I think it works.

Thorin tries very hard to ignore the growling of his stomach. His tools become heavier and heavier with each step, but he needs them. With them he is a blacksmith. Without ... without he would just be a stablehand. The kind of job they offered to him in Bree. His pride would not bear it. His pride would not even allow him to work in the Blue Mountains, where people know who he is.  
Here, in this “Shire”, people will not know the dwarf doing lowly blacksmith work is the heir to the throne of Erebor. 

 

“Hello there!”

He looks up. There’s a girl walking towards him, with a backpack on her back, two neat braids and two bouncing breasts. 

Thorin promptly looks at his shoes. He is not the kind of person who would ogle a child, just because she had the misfortune to develop early. “Greetings”, he mumbles. 

“It’s time for second breakfast”, the child says in a cheerful voice. “I have a second pastry. There.”

A pastry is shoved into his hands, and it smells oh so tempting. He could just eat it in one bite. No. “Eat it yourself, little one. You have a bit of growing to do.” And he hands it back. 

“Alright, then ... you brought your own food?”

He watches her little hairy feet – hairy feet?! – as she walks to the roadside and sits down on a fallen tree there. 

Thorin shakes his head. “I need to reach the Shire by nightfall.”

“Oh! The Shire is not as far as that. Take a break, I’ll show you the way, then. And you can stay the night. No need to look for an inn.”

“Thank you, child, but no. Your parents won’t like that.” He knows what Men think of traveling dwarves. 

“Child?! Oh, very well, suit yourself, then!” She stands up, packs her stuff, and walks away in angry silence. 

In a way, he is glad when the girl is round the next bend in the road, and he doesn’t have to see her anymore. Her offers were all too tempting. Not to mention her breasts. And cute hairy feet ... no, he is NOT that kind of person. The girl clearly thinks of herself as an adult. He chuckles darkly as he thinks of his nephews back home. They would react just the same, but they are children, nevertheless. 

 

She was right, though, it is just afternoon when he sees some houses. Strange houses. They are ... small. Almost as if ... no, it can’t be. Dwarves don’t settle in such flat land. 

Soon enough, he finds an inn, the Green Dragon, and enters. It is only then that he realizes his mistake. The inn seems to be full of children. Except some of those children have grey or white hair, or none at all. 

“Welcome to the Green Dragon, stranger!” someone yells, and Thorin blushes with delayed embarrassment when he sees that the innkeeper is exactly the same size as the girl he met on the road. And the inkeeper is clearly a matron, with already graying hair. Is it possible that the girl on the road was ... an adult?

He introduces himself and asks for work. As a smith. He only works as a smith. A tiny bit of dignity he wants to keep. 

“I’m sure we can find something. Sit down, Mister Oak, have a drink.”

When he starts to rummage for money, maybe a tiny copper coin he overlooked last time he looked, the inkeeper shakes her head, which makes her curls bounce. “It’s on the house. Just tell us of your adventures in return, we do not often get visitors from far away here.”

His pride fights against his thirst and loses. Telling a story, that’s a good payment. He will just have to make it a good story. 

The offered food, though, he declines, and also the offer of a room in exchange for helping with the dishes. He is the heir of Durin, he will not do lowly domestic work. 

This annoys the innkeeper, which he is sorry to see, but there is nothing to be done about that. His pride is the last thing he has left.

She still goes to the kitchen to refill his cup, and hands it to him with a smile. “You can sleep in the backyard, then. The nights are still warm, here.”

“I cannot pay for the drink.”

“Someone who liked your tales paid for you.”

With a shrug, he drinks. Something to stave off the hunger for a while. It tastes strange, of herbs, but a free drink is a free drink. And those strange, tiny people certainly would not poison him. 

That he feels sleepy is to be expected after half a day’s travel and with his empty stomach. He lies down in the grass behind the inn, and quickly drifts to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

When he wakes up, he is in a soft bed. Thorin snuggles into the cushion to sleep some more. Only a few moments afterwards he remembers that he did not go to sleep in a bed. In fact, there’s still bits of grass in his hair. 

“Good morning, Mister Oak.”

He turns to look at ... the very same girl he met on the road. 

“My name is Bilberry Baggins, and you have been bridenapped.”

“Kidnapped?” This looks like a very nice and cosy home. Certainly not the place where a desperate criminal lives. Can she know who he is? But if she knew, she’d also know that his family has virtually nothing but the clothes on their backs. “Ha, good look with that. You really think anyone would pay ransom for me?”

“Not kidnapped”, Bilberry explains while she lights a pipe. “Bridenapped. It is a Shire tradition, so you might not be familiar with it. If someone is too stubborn to even consider one as a potential mate, one is well within one’s rights to bridenap said person in order to make them see reason. It is a very ancient law and has not been invoked for a long time, but then, hobbits are rarely as stubborn as you.”

His head spins with the new information. “Hobbits?”

“Hobbits. What do you think we are? Children of Men? You may have mistaken me for a child, but I trust you have realized your mistake in the meantime.”

“So you have abducted me in order to force me ...” He cannot say the word. It is too vile ... too vile to even think of it in connection with this cute, tiny woman. Is she ... will she ... horror seizes him with cold hands. 

“Dear Yavanna, no! Nonono! Do I look like a Man? I’m a proper gentlehobbit, very proper indeed. This is a proper bridenapping, no funny business!”

“Which means?” He relaxes a bit. 

“It is very simple. I will keep you here for one moon cycle, and endeavour to prove myself a worthy mate. You can try to escape, of course, but be warned, I have a very big family. It is really not worth the effort, trying to get away. Besides, you can leave in one moon, anyway, so why bother?”

“No funny business?”, he asks. “You won’t touch me?”

“I did sort of touch you when I dragged you here”, she muses “But no, no inappropriate touching. I am a Baggins of Bag End, after all.” She gets up from the tiny chair she has been sitting in, and puts out her pipe. “Enough talking. Time for first breakfast.”

When she leaves, Thorin sinks back between the sheets. There seems to be no immediate danger, so attempting to escape right now would be foolish. He has to gather information, first. 

So, he has been bridenapped. Because she wants him to consider her as ... potential mate. Mahal! How did he get himself into this mess? Durin’s heir cannot possibly marry a ... hobbit. Cute though she might be ...

The drink yesterday must have been spiked, so the innkeeper is an accomplice of Miss Baggins. He will find no help, there.   
The other ... ‘hobbits’ seemed a bit annoyed with his refusal to take up any other job than blacksmithing, too ... does he have the whole village against him?

 

When Bilberry returns, she is carrying a tray almost as big as herself. When she sets it down on the night table he can see that it contains ... everything. There is porridge and bacon, eggs and tomatos, toast and jam ...

“You do like at least some of this?”

The sound his stomach makes should be answer enough. 

“Eat up! You look starved!”

“I cannot accept ...”

“You are not a guest here, Thorin Oak.” Bilberry towers over him, which is only possible because he is still lying down. “You have been bridenapped, and it is my responsibility to feed you as long as you are here. Don’t let your stupid pride get in the way.”

He sighs, resigned, and starts eating. Though Bilberry didn’t demand it, he finishes off everything before he gets out of bed. “Will I be allowed to wash?”

“Oh, of course. I’ll show you the bathroom.”

A bathroom! Such a luxury he has not seen for months! And it is all shiny with white tiles and brass plumbing and fluffy green towels. 

“Leave your clothes on the floor, I’ll wash them as soon as possible. Meanwhile, I am afraid you will have to wear a towel, or a bedsheet, I haven’t had the time to sew something that fits you.”

“I had spare clothes with me ...” What happened to his tools? 

“Yes, and they are almost as dirty as the ones you wear. Don’t worry, your things are all here.”

Bilberry leaves, and Thorin immediately bolts the door. Not that it will help any, the bathroom has only one window, which is too tiny to fit through, even in his half-starved state. 

Now, a bloated belly has been added to his skinny form. Thorin squeezes himself into the small bathtub – he just so fits – and opens both the hot and the cold water tap. He smells horrible, he notices. Washing in streams, without the bar of soap he lost somewhen, doesn’t really help. 

So, why does Bilberry want thim to consider her as potential mate? It makes no sense. He is a smelly, dirty dwarf, and he insulted her. She, on the other hand, is really pretty, even from a dwarven point of view, and the hobbits likely don’t even mind her lack of beard. 

After scrubbing himself clean, he looks in the mirror. What good looks he had when they fled Erebor have been eaten by worry and hunger since then. In some places, his hair even starts to turn grey!

He detangles the wet hair as best he can, and braids it. 

When he has wrapped himself in one of the really large towels, there’s a knock at the door. “Are you decent, Mister Oak?”

“As decent as I will ever be”, he grumbles. It is really undignified, parading around in a towel, but there’s nothing to be done about it. 

He unbolts the door and opens it. 

Bilberry blushes, up to the tips of her pointy ears. Pointy ears – he really should have noticed those. They don’t look elvish, but not human, either. 

“What? Am I not covered?”

She avoids his gaze. “I just ... just noticed you are even more handsome than I thought.”

Now it is his turn to blush. Mahal! No one ever called him handsome! Alright, so maybe his parents sometimes said something about him being a handsome lad, but that’s different. 

“You are just in time for second breakfast.”

Second breakfast? She must be kidding!

She is not. Turns out there is more food. Starved as he is, he eats everything, which seems to make Bilberry very happy. “Do you like my cooking?”, she asks, almost bashful. 

“I’m hungry.” Though the food does taste delicious. He cannot admit that. She kidnapped him! “Why would you ... bridenap me, anyway? We only talked once, and then I insulted you.”

“Well ...” She blushes. “You are very handsome. And I am rather curious why you wouldn’t accept food, even though you were obviously starving. You are ... a mystery.”

“Am I?”

“Yes ... and I want to solve it.”

“You will not get to do that. I will escape.” 

“Sure you will!” She smiles. “The entire Took clan is guarding the river side of Hobbiton, and the Baggins clan does the same for the other side. You will not get far.”

Thorin groans. The hobbits are small, but then, so are dwarves, in comparison to the other races. He knows from experience that height is not much of an advantage. Besides ... he cannot fight. Not really. Not then they mean him no harm. He could have Miss Baggins on her back with a kitchen knife to her throat in an instant. But that is no way to behave towards a woman. He is not stupid, he would fight a woman if he absolutely had to ... but she hasn’t touched a hair on his head, so it would be utterly dishonourable to even try. 

 

After second breakfast, Bilberry takes him for a walk in her garden, and points out her prize tomatos. And the lilies native to Mirkwood she has been able to cultivate and is very proud of. After that, there is lunch. In the afternoon, there is tea, not just a beverage but a whole meal. And then, there is dinner. Everything is delicious. 

At this pace, he will regain the weight he had upon fleeing Erebor in the time she keeps him captive. Not that he will stay, of course. 

When Bilberry has gone to bed, having placed a glass of milk and some cookies on his night table, for a late night snack, Thorin gets up. 

His clothes, he knows, are drying in front of the fire in the living room. He just has to get there, put them on, and sneak out of the round door. 

Thorin gets as far as the living room, but then, a floorboard creaks under his soles. 

He freezes. And sure enough, mere moments later, Bilberry stands before him, in a nightshirt embroidered with sunflowers. “The bathroom is the other way, Mister Oak”, she says in a cheerful voice. “You don’t want to leave me already, do you?”

“In fact, that was exactly what I had in mind”, he grumbles, but lets himself be ushered back to the bedroom. One more day of six proper meals will do him good. After all, he will need his strength for outrunning all those hobbits. 

 

All in all, it could be worse. Bilberry gives him books to read when he refuses to talk to her, and works on something that looks suspiciously like clothes for him while he reads. 

When a few days into his capitivity, he makes an effort to talk to her, she merrily chats about the Shire, and the yearly garden competition, and all those things she likes. He learns that she has been living alone in her mansion for quite a while, since her parents’ deaths, and is considered a confimed bachelor by her neighbours. 

The food, he discovers, is just as delicious even when he is not hungry. 

There is just one thing he misses. “Where did you put my shaving knife?”

“A shaving knife? Oh! But you are a dwarf – I thought ...”

“I am in mourning. Now, where did you put it?”

She disappears from his view, and returns with the knife in her hand. “You will not use it to hurt yourself, will you?”

“Why would I?”

“I don’t know. You are too honourable to hurt me, but you did try to escape very often ...”

Oh, that. It has become a kind of sport to him, actually. Last time, he even managed to get past the garden gate before he was taken by surprise by two young hobbit boys who scolded him for trying to get away from such a good catch as Miss Baggins while they dragged him back by his feet. 

“I will not hurt myself.” He does not tell her that shaving off his beard is a kind of punishing himself. She would not know. 

“You do get those melancholic moods. Please tell me if you need anything?”

“I will.” She is just so kind and caring. It is a pity a heir of Durin cannot marry just anyone. He could really get used to living here, waking up to the sight of her cheerful round face every morning ... 

 

As time progresses, Bilberry grows increasingly silent and melancholic herself. Thorin has no idea what causes it. Maybe it is the onset of fall, as she is so fond of her garden. 

The clothes he now wears are surprisingly similar to those he used to wear as prince in Erebor. She must have had some illustrations in those many books in her library. They are also a bit too large for his present form. Somehow, Bilberry must have figured out that he used to have a lot more bulk. 

Thorin has regained some of his muscles by helping with the laundry and handling the heavy iron pans Bilberry uses for cooking ... after all, it is not demeaning if he is just helping, not being paid to do it. Or so he likes to tell himself. 

It is close to his last day – of course he counted – when Bilberry looks so downcast that Thorin decides she needs some cheering up. 

“Would you like me to sing for you?” He used to be praised for his singing voice, back then. Even by Dís, who didn’t let her sisterly affection get in the way of telling ugly truths. 

“Oh! That would be very nice of you, Mister Oak.”

She still uses his fake last name. Must have something to do with that propriety she is so proud of. 

He starts with a happy drinking song, and when she likes that, he tries his luck with one of the many songs of their lost home, of Erebor. 

Bilberry is crying at the end of it, so much for cheering her up. But she does thank him, so probably that’s alright. 

 

The morning he has been counting forward to, he wakes up, and nothing seems different. The bed is still clean and soft and wonderful, his clean clothes are still there. He rubs his eyes, goes to the bathroom to wash, and then gets dressed for first breakfast. 

Only there is no breakfast. Bilberry is not in the living room. Instead, on the table there are his tools, cleaned, oiled and sparkling, his clothes, and another bag, which turns out to contain bread and cheese. Food for traveling. 

Under the bag, there is a letter. It doesn’t say much, just that he is free to go, the door is open and the bridenapping is finished. 

He swallows. Somehow, he had expected ... not hoped, no, certainly not hoped – that she would make more of an effort to keep him. Probably she has had enough of him. His moods and temper and everything. His sister told him often enough that he’s difficult, and that no woman in her right mind will ever marry him ... of course, that was back then, in Erebor. She has stopped the teasing when it became bitter truth.


	3. Chapter 3

Bilberry sits in her empty living room. Not that it is emptier than before Thorin, just ... well, now it feels empty without him. 

Bridenapping him had been a stupid idea. Of course everyone had been on board with the plan, as they all were fed up with the stupid, prideful dwarf who wouldn’t accept even the tiniest bit of hospitality, but she should have known he would resent her for it. And of course not marry her. All it did was make her get to know him better, how honourable he is behind that stupid pride, how ... well, caring he can be ... and, not least, how handsome he looks when not half-starved. All it did was make her miss him, now. She should have just ignored the handsome, rude stranger back then, she would have forgotten about him in a couple of days. 

Suddenly, there is a knock at the door. Immediately her mood brightens. Visitors! She always likes entertaining guests. Puts her mind off that stupid pining. 

Only the person standing in front of her is ... “Mister Oak?”

She is answered with a bellowing laugh. Not Thorin, then. “Nah, though I cannot blame you. I am Dís, daughter of Lís. Sister of Thorin Oakenshield.” The dwarf bows. “At your service.”

“Oh! Do come in! It is just time for tea!” The different last name the dwarf lady used is a bit confusing, but there is no confusing her for anyone else but a close relative of Thorin. Except for her longer beard, she almost looks like him. “I’m Bilberry Baggins, but you know that already?”

“Sure do. Shall we talk business now, or after tea?”

“Business?”

“This is not a mere courtesy visit.” Dís smiles, baring all her teeth. 

“Maybe ... you want to eat something, first?” She is in no hurry to find out what the dwarf wants. Dís will be angry because of the bridenapping. It was bound to happen. Hobbit families usually try to help family members to escape when bridenapped, but they don’t hold a grudge – it is tradition, after all. For dwarves ... it obviously is not. 

So they drink tea and eat scones, until Dís puts down her cup of tea. “Now, Miss Baggins, I have come to ask for your hand in marriage, at the behest of my brother Thorin.”

Her mouth falls open. She must have misunderstood. 

“Do you accept?”

“What ... why ... why didn’t he say so himself?”

“Because he is an emotionally constipated, prideful fool. I hope his behaviour during his stay hasn’t put you off him, though I really couldn’t blame you if it did.” Dís rummages in her pocket and puts something on the table that looks like beads. Jewelery, and very beautiful at that. “If you decide to accept, just wear those in your hair. I will send him around to visit.”

“He didn’t seem to like me much ...”

Dís laughs. “He is always grumpy. That is just his normal state of being. He told me you just snatched him off the road, even though he had insulted you, so I thought you would not mind.”

“So ... he does like me?”

“Like you? He has fallen head over heels for you. I have heard nothing but Bilberry here, Miss Baggins there, for the past couple of months, until I decided to go and see that wondrous creature with my own eyes.” 

Suddenly, she feels warm and happy inside. “Really? Oh, do tell me what he said about me. I will make us another pot of tea.”

As it turns out, Dís is happy and well-fed because she didn’t turn down jobs she thought below her, and also because she left Thorin back at home to take care of his nephews so he cannot get in the way. 

“Does he know you are asking me to marry him?” Bilberry asks, suspicious. 

“No – he might be too prideful even to consider that. Thing is, just like you have your ancient courtship rites, we dwarves have those, too. It is his duty to beget a heir, and as only surviving relative, I can make him marry anyone of my choosing, since he has not choosen a mate himself.”

“I am not sure ...”

“Don’t worry. You don’t have to have children with him – I can see why you wouldn’t want, with the size difference – it’s just a handy excuse.”

“No, I meant ... he really didn’t act as if he likes me much, and ... and ... those beads look very expensive. Isn’t your family poor?”

Dís chuckles. “Aye, we are poor now, but we were royalty once. Those, he made with his own hands, for his bride, whoever she might turn out to be. We wouldn’t sell them. As soon as he sees those beads in your hair he will gladly consent. He just needs some excuse to swallow his stupid pride.”

“Well ... if you say so ...”

The beads really do look fetching on her. 

 

Thorin pulls his cloak closer around himself. It is freezing cold, the middle of winter now, and he would not usually travel ... if Dís had not told him that Miss Baggins’ favourite gardening shovel was broken. 

“It’s her favourite”, she had said. “And now that the shovel blade broke in the frozen ground, she will have to make do with some tiny hand shovel, the like where you have sit down to work ...”

The thought of Bilberry sitting on the frozen ground had quickly stirred him into action. He owes her at least that. One repair. Decent blacksmith work. 

When he finally reaches the familiar green, round door, he is relieved to see that there is no one outside. Not even footprints in the snow. Seems Bilberry did the sensible thing and stayed at home. 

He knocks, hesitantly. 

Bilberry opens the door, only wearing her dressing gown. “Oh! What a pleasant surprise! Do come in.”

As he does so, he notices something sparkling in her hair. His heart skips a beat. “Where did you get those beads?”

“Your sister gave them to me. You are not angry, are you? They are lovely!”

“Do you ... do you know what they mean?” He doesn’t have the heart to take them away from her. He will just have to marry her, there’s nothing to be done about it. 

“She said it was her right to decide on a bride for you and ...” Bilberry twirls one of her curly strands around her finger. “Of course I accepted.”

“You accepted? Me? After having to endure me for a month?”

“That was my own fault, stupid.” She smiles. “I got quite used to having you here. Will you stay the winter?”

“Dís will be worr –“

“I am sure she will be able to tell why you don’t return, but if you insist we can send a letter.”

“Alright then ... she chose you, so ... I suppose we will have to get married come spring.” He cannot hide his smile at that. Honour demands that he marry the bride his sister has chosen. And she has chosen well.


End file.
